


I'll Crawl Home to Her

by limptrizkit



Category: NASCAR RPF
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Smut, NASCAR, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, This is a nightmare but we ball regardless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 16:57:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19024090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limptrizkit/pseuds/limptrizkit
Summary: Ryan Blaney comes home to his girlfriend after a particularly rough race. She comforts him in a rather unconventional way.





	I'll Crawl Home to Her

**Author's Note:**

> Please bear with me. This is the product of a hyper-fixation with Nascar and Ryan Blaney, so it's a fucking nightmare. It's also my first fic so...lol! Anyway, please read it. I literally have a Bachelors of Arts in writing, so it's not going to suck... grammatically, that is.
> 
> Also, the title of this fic is way more dramatic than the actual story. There is no cheating involved in any way, shape, or form.
> 
> Background  
> (unnecessary, can read one-shot without it)
> 
> For the purposes of this story, my ofc, Tiffany Garris, is the drummer of a very real band (Knocked Loose – please don't ask, but it's fitting for a Blaney fic since they're a hardcore band). She's 25 years old and from Louisville, Kentucky, and she's the daughter of Roger Garris (oc), the owner of a chassis manufacturing company based in Charlotte, North Carolina, and the niece of Kevin Garris (oc), a retired professional stock-car racer who competed in the Nascar cup series.
> 
> I'm an adult, so I'm not about to attach links to Polyvore sets, but Tiff (in my head) is about 5'5, brunette with medium-length, wavy hair, slender (but not rail-thin), and heavily tattooed.
> 
> She tours full-time with Knocked Loose, which was started in the early 2010s with her brother Bryan and three other friends from high school. Before they released their full-length album, she was a student at a prestigious Midwestern music college (modeled after an irl college near me), where she studied percussion and sound engineering.
> 
> She met Ryan through the band Miss May I (specifically Levi Benton), whom of which KL was on Warped Tour with numerous times. Levi took Ryan to a KL show, and he and Tiff met after their set was finished. They were both pretty attracted to each other, and despite the fact that they're both so emotionally stunted, they managed to kind of ask the other out in a very round-about way. Basically, Ryan invited her to a race after finding out that, despite her being the daughter of Roger Garris, a man whose company supplies Nascar car manufacturers, and the niece of Kevin Garris, a Nascar cult legend, she hadn't been to a race since she was a kid. In turn, Tiff invited him to another KL show, but one where they were opening for Slipknot, a favorite of Ryan's (and Tiff's, and mine, and everyone else's lol). After those respective "dates," they met each other's respective friends and started legitimately dating.
> 
> This one-shot—which is literally just porn—takes place about 8 months after the fact.

_Boys workin' on empty_

_Is that the kind'a way to face the burning heat?_

_I just think about my baby_

_I'm so full of love I could barely eat_

_There's nothing sweeter than my baby_

_I'd never want once from the cherry tree_

_'Cause my baby's sweet as can be_

_She give me toothaches just from kissin' me_

Ryan POV

_Fuck._ He had just screwed up big-time.Like could've-had-a-shot-at-winning-the-Coca Cola 600 big-time _._ Well _, he_ didn't screw up, his crew chief did. But at the end of the day, he's the one in the car. He's the one in charge. There were three fucking laps to go and he pitted due to wheel malfunction, causing him to finish thirteenth. Not first, and not even third. Thirteenth.

Feeling a mixture of helplessness, embarrassment, and anger at himself, he focuses his thoughts on his girlfriend at home. Tiff, who had just gotten back from Knocked Loose's European tour yesterday, was at home watching Sturgill, and probably not-so-patiently awaiting his return.

He's relieved she didn't come to the race, as he knows he wouldn't have been able to handle facing her after fucking up a win he so desperately needed. She probably— _definitely_ —watched on television, though.  _God_  he doesn't want to disappoint her.

***

After finishing a post-race interview, he returns to the garage, dodging sheepish and pitiful looks from both his crew and fellow drivers.

As he unzips his fire suit, he hears footsteps approaching him. "That was a good-run, man," comes a familiar voice from behind.

"Not now, Chase," he replies as he turns to face his best friend. "I'm sick and fucking tired of being in the top ten and top five during a majority of the race, then something going fucking wrong every fucking time," Ryan spits back angrily at Chase, whose luck seems to never run out.

Knowing that anything he says to the man won't get through to him at the moment, Chase simply responds, "go home to Tiff and Sturgill, Ryan."

Ryan physically and emotionally deflates. He exhales the breath he didn't know he was holding, and looks at Chase apologetically, "I'm sorry. You know I'm not mad at you, Chase. I just really needed that win."

"And you'll get it. I'm sure of it," Chase smiles as he grips his friend's shoulder. "Now go home, get some rest, and be with your girl."

"And child," Ryan laughs, thinking about how Sturgill has become more like he and Tiff's baby than their dog, what with how he now sleeps on the bed with them, much to his chagrin.

"I'll see you," Ryan tells Chase, as he pulls him into a tight hug. "Yeah," Chase replies, patting his back, hoping that his friend gets what he's so deserving of come next week.

Ryan continues taking off his fire suit as Chase leaves the garage. After he's changed into jeans and a t-shirt, his phone rings.

Tiffany POV

"Come on, Ryan. Pick up the damn phone," Tiffany says to herself.

She watched the race on television, as always, and seeing what happened to Ryan's car--which cost him the race--made her sick to her stomach. Her heart wrenched for him, as she knew how insecure and embarrassed he's been feeling about not yet having a cup win this season. She knows this just exacerbated it tenfold.

Beep. "Hey," Ryan sighs into his phone.  _Thank god._

"Sturgill and I are so proud of you, babe. No matter how you finished," she tells him, immediately bypassing small-talk.

"Tiffany, I--"

"Shut up, Ryan," Tiffany laughs lightly, "you had an amazing fucking run. You've  _had_  amazing fucking runs this entire season. Just really shitty luck."

"And don't I know it," Ryan mutters.

There's a pause. She hasn't quite mastered the art of verbally comforting someone, though she's made great strides since they started dating eight months ago. She went from having intermittent quasi-relationships with guys who treated her like shit (though she  _was_  guilty of treating them like shit right back...), to a steady, mature relationship with a man that treats her with respect  _and_  loves her unconditionally. Considering her history—and considering  _his_ history—she's doing pretty damn well with this whole relationship thing, even though she doesn't always say the right things.

"Ryan, I'm not gonna act like I have a solution. Because I don't. But what I  _do_  have, is faith. Faith in you that you'll come out on top of this funk that the No. 12 seems to be in," Tiff tells her boyfriend.

"You sure it's the No. 12 that's in a funk? Because I'm starting to think it's me," Ryan tells her, shame thick in his voice.

"Nonsense. You know how good you are, Ryan. Everyone does. And everyone knows that it's literally the fucking car, and  _not_  fucking you."

" _'Not'_ fucking me?" Ryan laughs. "Great, so not only am I majorly sucking at racing right now, but I'm also not getting fucked by my girlfriend."

_Phew._ Laughing is a good sign _._

"Well, yeah...unless you can get home in thirty minutes," she responds with a smirk.

"I'm on my way," Ryan responds briskly, hanging up the phone.

Tiffany scoffs.  _Easy ass._ But, hey. They haven't fucked in a month, seeing as she's been on tour in Europe and he's been busy with racing. If she can fuck him out of a bad mood while still getting fucked in the process, she's game. Verbal consolation may not be her strong suit, but sex definitely is. Luckily, Ryan's the same way.

"You gotta go outside and pee before I put you away, Sturge-man," she tells the mutt, getting up from the couch she's been sitting on. "Daddy's coming home soon and he and I have some business to tend to," she laughs.

Ryan POV

Well, okay. He didn't expect an earnest conversation with his girlfriend to turn dirty so fast. Especially after the day he's had. But honestly? He's not mad.

He's missed his girlfriend. He's missed feeling her under him. On top of him. He's missed being  _inside_  of her. He was getting hard just thinking about it.

He hurriedly puts his fire suit and the clothes he wears under it away, and fishes for his car keys in his backpack. He's the last one in the garage, his crew all having left, probably (and correctly) assuming he wanted to be left alone, so he turns out the lights and locks the door behind him.

As he's getting into his car his phone buzzes with a text message from Tiff.

"You know I wasn't kidding about the thirty minutes, right?" it read. Before he could reply, another text followed, saying "PSA this is not a sexting attempt. I'm deadass uncomfortably wet and I need you here stat lmfao."  _Jesus_. His girlfriend, ever the wordsmith.

He puts his key into the ignition, shuffles his music, and takes off, trying not to think of his  _uncomfortably wet_ girlfriend, who most likely has her hands down the front of her panties right now, edging herself until he gets home. When did he get so  _lucky_?

Tiffany POV

She stifles a moan as her hand travels down her stomach and into her flimsy panties. Her middle and ring finger circle her clit, then dip down into the sticky wetness surrounding her slit. Her fingers breach her entrance, and she has herself mewling and writhing on the bed by the time they're three quarters of the way inside.  _Fuck,_  she thinks to herself,  _I needed this._ Although her fingers aren't quite her boyfriend's cock, they were doing the trick for the time being.

After she got off the phone with Ryan and took Sturgill out, she waited for him on their bed, absentmindedly scrolling through her phone. She would've waited--really, she would've--but Ryan was taking entirely too long to get home, which is why she is currently spread out on their bed, touching her tits under her tank-top and fingering herself into oblivion.

Too preoccupied with pumping her fingers in and out of herself, she misses the sound of the door opening and closing and Ryan making his way toward their bedroom.

Ryan POV

Finding it odd that she didn't notice him enter the house, he sets his keys down in the basket by the door and walks toward their room.

He pauses when he hears the rustling of sheets and breathy moans coming from inside their bedroom. Had it been any other time, he'd have been annoyed that she started without him, but he was way too turned on to care right now.

The sight he was greeted with upon entering their room nearly made him cum on the spot. Tiff was on their bed, half-naked, save for her white tank-top rucked up around her tits and her flimsy panties that were nearly soaked-through. One hand was circling a nipple, while the other was furiously fingering herself under the shoddy material of her pale pink underwear. Her face was the picture of complete and total wantonness.

Ryan should really get a medal for the self-control he exercised in not cumming. Seriously.

"Ahem," he shakily clears his throat, patiently waiting for his girlfriend to stop fucking herself and look at him.

Tiffany stills, opening her eyes and looking directly at Ryan. She pulls her hand out of her panties and licks her wetness off her fingers, never looking away from him. She then sits back on her elbows, taking a second to focus, huffing out a laugh and tilting her head when she finally does. "Oops," she smiles, not at all apologetically.

"What am I going to do with you?" Ryan smirks back, voice thick and throaty.

"Anything you want," Tiff replies, getting up off her elbows, and crawling toward the front of the bed where he's standing.

_Fuck._ Did he lose a race today? Because it sure doesn't fucking feel like it. He can't believe that he has the girl of his dreams on his bed-- _their_  bed-- facing him on all-fours, looking as if she wants to devour him.

His eyebrows furrow as she gets gets up on her knees, but they smoothen out when she takes his face into her hands and sweetly kisses his mouth. He cups the back of her neck, while his arm snakes around her waist. Their kisses remain innocent for a moment, but quickly begin to deepen when Ryan prods open her mouth with his tongue. She reciprocates, her tongue meeting his, both of them moaning into the other's mouth.

He whines when she pulls back, making her laugh. She looks at him contently, cupping his cheek, "Ryan, I'm proud of you no matter what." His gaze falls from hers, head falling down in a sigh. Before she can chide him, he looks back up at her and tilts her face up toward him, "I know. And I love you for that, but I really just want to forget this day."

She looks at him thoughtfully and moves his fingers from under her chin and kissing them, "I can help with that."

Tiffany POV

She gets off the bed and stands in front of him. He watches her heatedly as she tugs his shirt up and over his head. She then reaches for his belt and undoes it, doing the same to his zipper.

She never breaks eye contact as she sinks to her knees on their bedroom floor.

As she pulls her boyfriend's cock out of his boxers, she thinks about how she'd never do this for her previous boyfriends. They were undeserving of such ministrations. Plus, they wouldn't even return the favor.

She hears his breath catch in his throat as her tongue reaches out to lick the tip of his cock. She swirls her tongue around the head, then grips the base with her right hand. She looks up to find her boyfriend looking down at her in awe, chest heaving. She seals her mouth around him, making him groan and tilt his head back, exposing the ivory column of his neck.

_Yes_. This is what she wanted. Not only to make him forget, but to give him pleasure, as he's usually the one doing it to her.

She bobs her head on his hard member, alternating between sucking and licking. The only noise in the room the wet, sucking sounds coming from her mouth, and the heavy panting coming from Ryan's.

Although this was about Ryan, she was seeking her own release as well. Giving blow jobs usually gets her hot, but they don't get her off. Throat-fucking, though? Different story. She doesn't know whether it's the fact that Ryan  _uses_ her mouth like he does her cunt, or that she can barely breathe when he does it, but it puts her over the edge every time.

She removes her hand from his base and places both hands on his thighs, signaling to him to look at her. He looks down at her confused, then quickly realizes what she's asking. He groans and fists his hands in her hair, slowly pushing his cock deeper into her hot, ready, and willing mouth. Tiffany tilts her head back, opening her throat for his cock. As she deep throats him, Ryan keens out.

He pulls her off his cock half way, then roughly shoves back in, making her eyes roll-back into her head. She moans around his cock, already feeling herself get wet again. As his thrusts start to get faster, she slides a finger into her panties, slipping over her soaked clit. She climaxes within seconds, choking around his cock. He thrusts into her mouth twice more, the gagging sensation of her throat around his cock making him cum, his hot seed spilling down her throat.

He pulls her off his softening member and looks at the girl on his knees for him. Her chest is heaving, and her nipples are hard and poking through her white, nearly see-through tank-top. Her panties are basically done for, literally soaked all the way through with her cum. She looks up at him and smiles, a little bit of his seed spilling out of the corner of her mouth. She's never been more in love in her entire life.

Ryan POV

What the fuck did he ever do to deserve a woman like Tiffany? Holy fucking  _shit_.

Despite the fact that he was just given possibly the greatest blow job of his life—not to mention the fact that she also let him  _fuck her throat_ —he wanted, no,  _needed_  more.

There was no way his cock was in any shape to fuck her at the moment, so he decided on doing what he does best.

He pulls her up from the floor and lays her on the bed. He pulls her damp panties off, then straddles her waist. He places both hands on either side of her face and kisses her lazily, trying to convey to her his thanks. She dutifully kisses him back, pouting as he pulls away from her, sits her up, and pulls her tank-top over her head.

"What?" Ryan laughs, "do you  _not_  want me to eat you out?"

Tiff wipes the pout off her face, smiling with reddened cheeks, "Absolutely not."

She leans back once more and spreads her legs for him, "Go right ahead."

Ryan bites his lip and groans. This girl will be the death of him.

She scoots up the bed to give him room to lay in between her thighs. Knowing she was probably still sensitive from her orgasm, he starts trailing kisses up her inner thighs, gradually making his way to her center. He laps up her wetness around her slit, making her cry out as his nose rubs up against her clit. He latches his mouth to her cunt as his left hand rests a hand over her stomach to keep her from squirming. His right hand makes its way toward her opening, joining his tongue.

Eating pussy has always been one of Ryan's strong suits, but no woman has ever been as responsive as Tiffany, which has done wonders for his ego. Seeing her laid out in front of him squirming awoke his formerly spent cock, causing him to rut up against the sheet. He circles his tongue around her clit once more before pulling away and getting up on his knees.

Recognizing that they were both in the mood for rougher than usual sex, he tells her to turn around, which she does gladly.

Tiff flips over and gets up on her hands and knees, looking over her shoulder at her boyfriend. Ryan crawls up behind her and simultaneously grips his cock and places a hand on the curve of her hip and thigh. He never breaks eye contact with her as he lines his cock up to her opening and sheaths himself inside of her. He sees her mouth open in a whine as her eyes slightly roll back into her head, overwhelmed by the fullness of his cock in her cunt.

He's missed being inside her tight, wet cunt, having gone without the feeling for entirely too long. He grips both of her hips and pulls out half way, before shoving his cock back inside, making them both cry out in ecstasy.

He continued with this rhythm until Tiff gasped out, "Harder, Ryan."

He gripped her hips even tighter—no doubt leaving marks—and pulled out almost all of the way, slamming right back into her and grinding his cock into her cunt with a force that made her nearly choke. Keeping one hand on her hip, he moves his other to the curve of her neck and shoulder, giving him more leverage to piston his hips into her ass.

Tiff cries out with each thrust, her tits bouncing against her chest due to the sheer force of Ryan fucking her from behind. "I'm close, baby," he chokes out. Instead of replying, Tiff begins to fuck back up against his cock in order to speed up her own orgasm. She shifts her weight onto one hand and brings her other between her legs, bringing herself to orgasm after circling her clit a few times.

She cries out and clenches around Ryan, causing him to spill into her mid-thrust with a shout. To keep his cum from spilling out of her and down her thighs, he sinks back into her, eliciting from his girl a drawn-out moan. Still inside of her, he catches his breath. He pulls out of her slowly, his slick cock softening against his thigh.

Tiff turns around and onto her back and hazily looks up at her boyfriend, "I love you, Ryan. I'm so proud of you. Never forget that."

He gets up off the bed and leans down and kisses her forehead, "Thank you, darling. I love you too."

He walks into the bathroom attached to their room and brings out two washcloths for them. Tiff gets up off the bed, grabs a washcloth from him, and looks back at the mess they made, "We need to wash these sheets...before they...crust..."

Ryan groans, "God, I wish you weren't right all the time."

_FIN_.

**Author's Note:**

> Title and lyrics at the beginning come from "Work Song" by Hozier.


End file.
